


Emergency Contact

by boogers



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Angst, Car Accidents, Drinking, Gen, Hospitals, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 13:09:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11852244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boogers/pseuds/boogers
Summary: “So, why am I your emergency contact? Oh, and why were you driving a car drunk in an alley? It sounds like the time we tried to stage a fake suicide. You weren’t trying to kill yourself, were you? There are so many better ways to do that.”Mac picks Charlie up from the hospital when he crashes a car.[i wrote this with no ships in mind but it can be read as mac/charlie and one-sided mac/dennis is heavily implied !]





	Emergency Contact

**Author's Note:**

> this fic takes place after the s12 finale so major spoiler warning!!
> 
> please mind the tags! warnings for suicide, car accidents, and hospitals  
> [edited 09/24 bc i realized i switched tenses a few times oops]

Mac had been without Dennis for two and a half weeks now, which, compared to being constantly at his side for nearly two decades, is an eternity to him.

It had been a particularly long day, a Thursday spent watching every movie in the _The Fast and the Furious_ franchise, alone on his couch chain smoking and drinking. Too miserable and not nearly drunk enough after movie five, Mac vaguely remembered that Dennis used to keep aged whiskey in one of their rarely-used cabinets. As the movie’s credits music began, Mac got up to look in the suspecting cabinet to find it empty, save for several layers of dust on all sides. He continued to rummage through every cabinet in the apartment in hopes it may have been moved but unfortunately, they were all nearly bare.

Dennis had managed to take everything he could from Mac and leave him alone without resources to cope with the abandonment. He had made his way through the first three stages of grief quickly and was now stuck in Depression, much to the rest of the gang’s inconvenience, as he was no help at Paddy’s in his current condition. He wasn’t sure if anyone would be there now, at one in the morning on a Thursday (now Friday, technically), but he did know that regardless, there would be alcohol.

He called a cab to take him to the bar, and when it arrived he greeted the driver with a mumble of the address. After a minute or two of uncomfortable silence, Mac pulled a CD out of his duster’s large pocket and asked, “Can you play this?”. The cab driver smiled politely despite being caught off guard and replied, “Sorry, I haven’t got a CD player. I could turn on the radio but we’re almost at your destination.”

Mac left the driver a fifty-cent tip and stumbled out of the car to find Paddy’s closed. He was relieved to not have to deal with the remainder of the gang’s bullshit, but he didn’t have his key to the bar with him. He snuck around to the back, where anyone passing by couldn’t see him break into a bar during the night, and climbed into a small window in the bathroom. He was impressed with his flexibility until he slipped on a wet spot on the ground and fell on his ass. He made a mental note to hound Charlie for not cleaning that spot and nearly causing his death the next time he saw him.

Mac limped his way to the bar and poured himself five shots of whatever was in the first open bottle he saw - whiskey, coincidentally. He downed the first three and walked into the back room to find Frank’s laptop. Making a point not to look at anything on the screen and find any of the weird shit Frank uses his computer for, he opened the built-in disc tray and placed the CD he was carrying in it. The music started playing after a few concerning clicks and beeps rang out of the aging laptop. The first track of the mixtape he burned for Dennis and his car rides began to play. Mac turned the volume as loud as it could go, but the speakers weren’t strong.

He carried the computer out to the main room of the bar and headed towards one of the booths that he noticed had a stack of letters sitting on the table. He sat down the laptop, then himself, and picked up the first letter in the stack. The envelope had “ **DENIS** ” written on the back in thick capital letters in red marker. Before opening it, he looked at the labeling on the rest of the envelopes. They read, “ **MAC** ”,“ **FRACK** ”, “ **DIE** ”, and finally, “ **WAYTRESS** ”. Mac concluded the letters were from Charlie and felt slightly proud that his name was the only one spelled correctly. He opened the envelope with his name and found a note written in the same red marker that read:  
“ **CAT <3 MAC 4EVR**”

Mac snorted, remembering the time he taught Charlie to spell his own name C-A-T and he spent the rest of the day writing in one of his journals about “Cat and Mac”.

He continued opening the others’ letters. Dennis’ read:  
“ **HOP U HAV FUN** ”  
Dee’s:  
“ **MISS U** ”  
The Waitress’ was only a drawing of a heart, and what Mac assumed was supposed to be a portrait of her.  
Frank’s:  
“ **LUV U DAD** ”  
Mac stared at the letters for a while, trying to think of why Charlie would bother writing them and leaving them there in the bar. It occurred to him too late that he probably wasn’t meant to read the ones not addressed to him. He decided that trying to understand what goes through Charlie’s mind is ultimately useless, and he was starting to feel tired and nauseous. He laid his head down on the table, not caring that in that position his ear was directly beside the laptop’s speaker. As sleep crept up to him, he thought about Charlie’s note to Dennis. “Hope you have fun”, must have been referring to his move to North Dakota. He thought about what Dennis would be doing there now. Probably laying in bed, warm and comfortable with a beautiful woman. However, Mac hoped he was exhausted and dealing with a crying baby in the middle of the night, as he was being lectured by the mother of his bastard child. He hoped he was miserable enough to come back home.

He woke to the sound of his phone ringing- or more to the feeling of it vibrating in his pocket. He prepared to simply deny the call and slam the phone on the table and return to sleeping uncomfortably on a table, until he looked and noticed his phone’s caller ID read “ **Hospital** ”. He cleared his throat and answered the call with a tired, “Hello?”.  
A woman’s overly-polite voice came through the speaker. “Hello, sir. I am looking for a mister... Ronald Mcdonald?”  
Mac turned his head slightly so that his sigh wouldn’t blow directly into the microphone. “Speaking.”  
“I am sorry to call so late in the night, surely you must have been asleep, but you are listed as the primary emergency contact for a Mr. Charles Kelly. He was in a car accident tonight.”  
“Oh. Uh-shit. _I’m_ his emergency contact? What- whatever. What happened? How’s he doing?”  
“He is doing okay. However, he needs someone to pick him up and care for him for a few days.”  
This time Mac did not turn his head when he let out a deep sigh.  
“Damn it, Charlie! The hell was he doing? God- yeah, I’ll be there soon.”  
“Um, thank you, sir.”

Mac hung up the phone to call a cab to the hospital. He shoved the letters into his duster’s pocket and left Paddy’s through the front door, leaving it unlocked since he didn’t have a key. He knew Dee would lecture him about it if she noticed, but he had other things on his mind. When the cab arrived and he told the driver where he was headed, the older man looked concerned.  
“Everything alright?” he asked.  
Mac leaned an elbow on the edge of the window and rest his chin in his hand. “Yeah. My dumbass friend listed me as his emergency contact without my consent. He probably just, like, stubbed his toe and freaked out about it.” Mac said despite the anxious pounding in his chest.  
The driver eyed Mac in the mirror and slowly replied, “Oh. Well, I hope he gets well soon.”  
“Yeah.”  
The rest of the drive was spent in another awkward silence. When they arrived, Mac tipped the driver one dollar and the older man smiled and said, “Take care of your friends. They don’t last forever.”

Mac entered the hospital and after some confusion, he found the nurse he spoke with on the phone who led him outside Charlie’s room.  
Charlie was eating Jell-O and had bandages wrapped around his head. Smaller ones soaked in blood were covering various areas of his face. Before he could walk in, the nurse took Mac aside in the hallway and explained why Charlie was there.  
“We got a call at around one a.m. saying that he had crashed a car into a wall in an alley. The caller said he was _covered in blood and dying_ , but when our paramedics arrived they decided it was not that severe. Mr. Kelly seems to have a few broken ribs from the impact of the crash, as well as a broken nose, a minor head injury, and some shallow wounds on his face and torso from glass on the windshield hitting him. He also seems to have been under the influence while driving in this alley. The doctor will be with the two of you soon with some test results and some painkillers for Mr. Kelly to take if necessary when he goes home. He will need to rest as much as possible for the next few weeks, and the doctor will provide a note if needed to get him time off from work.”  
The nurse laid a lot of information on him very quickly, and the only thing Mac could register is that he was pissed at Charlie and he’s going to give him a few more broken bones when they leave this place.

When Charlie noticed Mac enter the room, his face seemed to go through many emotions at once. First, he looked surprised, then happy to see him, then afraid, and finally, he stuck with looking mildly uncomfortable. Mac stood above his bed staring at Charlie, who avoided eye contact. Mac cleared his throat loudly and asked,  
“So, why the fuck am I your primary emergency contact? Oh, and why were you driving a car drunk in an alley? It sounds like the time we tried to stage a fake suicide. You weren’t trying to kill yourself, were you? There are so many better ways to do that.”  
Charlie laid his head back with a groan and said, “Shut up, man. I don’t know.”  
“The hell kind of answer is that? I paid like forty bucks for a cab here, and I’m gonna have to do it again when we leave. I’m pretty pissed at you, dude. The least you could do is explain why I had to come here.”  
“I’m sorry, okay? I’ll change my contact. It used to be the waitress but she got all mad at me about it. I knew Dennis and Dee wouldn’t even bother showing up if something happened to me, so you seemed like the best option.”  
“What about Frank? He’s basically your dad, dude.”  
“Frank is not my dad.” Charlie snapped.  
Mac began pacing back and forth as he spoke. “You’re suddenly sure about that? Even if you’re not blood-related he’s the closest thing you’ve ever had to a father. He treats you more like a son than he does Dennis.”  
“Frank is not my dad. He’s not my dad, he’s made that _very_ clear to me. He screamed it in my face.”  
“You guys had a fight?”  
“I guess, yeah.”  
“Well, if he’s not your dad that’s probably a good thing, but you’re family whether you like it or not. Weren’t you guys married?”  
“Could you just drop it, please? I’ll change the contact. I’ll make it my mom or something. You won’t have to help me next time.”  
“That’s not what I meant. Jesus. What do you mean by ‘next time’? The fuck’s going on with you, man?”

Before Charlie got a chance to answer, a doctor came into the room with test results and about a half hour of medical things to say to bore the two of them. After thirty-two minutes, the doctor told them they were free to leave and provided a wheelchair for Mac to wheel Charlie out in. Mac called a cab for the third time that evening, and when it arrived he helped Charlie into the car. This time the driver was a middle-aged woman with a strong accent that Charlie could not understand, so Mac was alone in making small talk and preventing his friend from saying anything ignorant and racist.  
“Oh, what’s happened here? Are you okay, sir?” The woman asked sincerely.  
“She’s like, speaking French or something. What’s she saying?” Charlie whispered to Mac.  
“She’s speaking English with a Spanish accent, shut up.” Mac whispered back in a hurry before responding to the woman, “He’s fine, thank you.”  
They continued to make small talk about the woman’s children and Mac’s work as the bouncer for a successful bar, where he regularly saves innocent women from huge, tough men using karate. He tipped this driver five dollars. She told Mac, “Be well. You are a good man. You care for people.” He was caught off guard by this and only managed to mumble a quick “Thanks, you too.”

Charlie was having a lot of trouble walking, even with Mac’s support, and slipped on the first step into Mac’s apartment building. Mac caught him and picked him up princess-style. Charlie was too out of it to be embarassed, and Mac was too proud to admit he was struggling to carry the weight.  
“Damn, dude, how much morphine did they give you?” Mac was losing his breath.  
“Not enough. Put me down, I can walk.”  
“You obviously can’t.”  
“I didn’t even want to come here. This is, like, kidnapping, isn’t it?”  
“Why would I kidnap you, Charlie? You didn’t protest on the way here, I assumed you wouldn’t want to see Frank right now.” Mac struggled to fish his keys out from his pocket while still holding Charlie as they approached his door. “Here, grab my keys from my front pocket and unlock my door for me.”  
“No, man, just let me down,” Charlie said, but still did as he was told. He was careful not to touch anything but his pocket as he grabbed the keys, and it took him three tries before successfully opening the door.  
“Have you never unlocked a door before?” Mac asked sarcastically as he adjusted his grip.  
“Obviously I’ve unlocked tons of doors. It’s just, me and Frank don’t lock up our apartment.”  
“How are you two even still alive?” Charlie rolled his eyes.

They made their way into the apartment and Mac dropped his friend onto his couch carelessly. The resulting whines were ignored as he went into a closet to grab some blankets and a pillow, then threw them in Charlie’s direction.  
“Get some sleep, buddy. I don’t even want to know what time it is right now.” Mac said as he walked to his bedroom and shut the door. Charlie was left in the dark apartment alone. He arranged himself on the couch so he was not putting any pressure on his injuries and closed his eyes, mumbling to himself, “ _Kidnap me from the hospital and just tell me ‘get some sleep’? Asshole._ ”  
Twenty minutes of tossing and turning went by before he finally called out, “Mac?”.  
He got a groan in reply and continued.  
“I can’t sleep alone.”  
“What?”  
“I usually sleep with Frank.”  
“Well, you’re not sleeping with me, dude,” Mac said, but Charlie was already opening his bedroom door and limping towards the bed. He sat down beside Mac and said, “You shared a bed with three other people for like a year, you won’t even notice me.”

Mac drifts off and dreams of him and Charlie as kids, throwing rocks at cars and hanging out in alleys. When he wakes he feels a wet spot on his pillow, a mix of tears and drool, but he feels happy and thinks it may have been the first dream he’s had in a while that didn’t involve Dennis. When he goes to sit up he finds Charlie’s arms wrapped around him, and he realizes that the wet spot he woke in was not on a pillow, but on Charlie’s chest. He quickly shoved off the arm around him and sat up. On his nightstand, he noticed his cell phone lit up and grabbed it to check the time. It read 1:35pm. He opened his texts, found Dee’s contact and sent: “ **ur on ur own at the bar tonight.** ” He continued checking social media and various games on his phone until about 30 minutes later, when Dee responded “ **???? like fuck i am u guys better help me!!** ” Mac didn’t bother responding, knowing that she’ll probably show up at his door in a few hours and seeing Charlie’s appearance will explain itself.

After about twenty more minutes of laying in bed, Mac got up and quickly fixed his appearance, gelling back his hair and brushing his teeth. He left Charlie to sleep in the apartment and made his way to the nearby liquor store to buy beer for himself and his guest. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew Charlie should not be drinking in his current condition, but he figures being sober would only make the both of them feel worse. Despite worrying about him, as he walked home he began dreading going back and dealing with Charlie. He’s not an idiot, he knows exactly what Charlie was trying to do last night, and as always, Mac’s anger replaces his hurt and confusion so all he can feel is rage.

When Mac steps in the door he finds Charlie still in his bed, curled into a ball with blankets pulled over his head. He looked like how he used to sleep as a kid when they had sleepovers, and for a second Mac felt calm. He quickly remembered how pissed he is though, and throws his keys (the only thing in his hands besides a case of glass bottles) at the lump in the sheets saying, “Wake up asshole. I got us drinks.” Charlie groaned and sat up. Mac knew he was awake. When Charlie turns and reveals his face, fresh-looking blood is soaking several of his bandages.  
“ _Ew_ , dude, why are you bleeding?” Mac asks.  
“Is it bleeding? My face got super itchy.” Charlie pushed the blankets back and scratched at a bloody spot on his cheek.  
“Well stop scratching it, dumbass!” Mac walked over and swatted at his arm. “You’re gonna get blood on my sheets, dude, get up.”  
“It hurts,” Charlie whined as he stood.  
“No shit. God damnit, the nurse didn’t even tell me how to- to” Mac stammered and gestured wildly with his hands. “To _do_ all this, to _deal_ with this stuff.”  
Charlie went stiff when Mac grabbed the sides of his face and stared intently as he picked at one of the bandages.  
“These are all, like, fancy hospital bandages. Like gauze and shit. I don’t have all this. What even is that?” He pointed to a butterfly closure near Charlie's eye. “I don’t have that.”  
Mac continued to mumble and make loud groaning noises as he got up and stomped towards the bathroom. Charlie started to follow him, but he spotted the beer sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch, so he sat there instead. He heard Mac rustling in the bathroom, and then a loud crash, followed by him yelling, “Oh, great! Fucking great, this is great, Charlie. Dennis took our Band-aids. He really needed Band-aids on his trip. _Great._ We don’t even have some shitty little Band-aids for you! We have toilet paper, you want some toilet paper for your face, Charlie? I’ll make it stick with my goddamn shit! How about that!?” Mac was practically screaming as he stepped out of the bathroom “God, _God_ , fucking Dennis, oh my _god!_ ”

Charlie remained silent and looked down, trying not to add any more fuel to Mac’s fire. He kept his gaze on the floor as Mac entered his bedroom and slammed the door. From the steady grunts he heard, he figured he was either having sex with something in there, or he was doing some rage push-ups. Charlie was scared to upset mac further, but the case of beer was sitting in front of him on the coffee table, and he was thirsty and still in pain, so he cracked one open. Shortly after the sound of the beer opening echoed through the apartment, Mac emerged from his room, red-faced and sweaty, grabbed a beer and sat down beside him.

They sat silently on the couch drinking, both refusing to look at the other. Charlie finished his bottle first and as he reached for a second, the door swung open and a shrill voice yelled, “Mac!”  
Dee entered their line of sight as she continued talking. “Why the hell am I _on my own_ ” she motioned air-quotes with her fingers, “at the bar tonight? I-” She saw Charlie and her words were suddenly cut off. “What the hell happened to you? Jesus, you look like shit, are you alright?”  
“Wait, I assumed it was your car he crashed. How’d you get here?” Mac looked at Charlie. “Whose car did you crash?”  
Charlie’s mumbled response was barely audible, but Mac and Dee both heard, “Frank’s.”  
Mac snorted and Dee said, “That’s awesome. Great job Charlie.”  
Usually, praise from Dee and Mac would make Charlie smile and try to continue impressing them, but he didn’t have the energy. He hadn’t had the energy for a while. He closed his eyes and tried to drown out the loud chatter around him.  
“Well, this is why you’re on your own tonight.” Mac gestured to Charlie.  
“So he’s got a couple scratches, big deal. He can still clean a goddamn toilet.” Dee snapped back.  
“His ribs are broken”  
“All of them?”  
“Enough of them.”  
“Well, why do you get to stay home? You look fine.”  
“I’m, like, looking after him? He needs me to stay with him.” Mac tried, and Charlie opened an eye to glance at him.  
“Mac, he’s an adult, he can look after himself. The bar can’t look after itself.” Dee reached for a beer and Mac swatted her hand away.  
“You can look after the bar. Or, y’know, just close it for the night.” Mac was starting to get annoyed again.  
“I can’t just close the bar on a Friday night, Frank would get pissed. Charlie already crashed his car, I don’t want to be there when he finally snaps.”  
“Frank can help you with the bar.”  
“Frank drives away the customers! Are you listening to me at all? God, I don’t have time for this, I had plans today.” Dee leaned in to glare at Mac and continued, “You’re coming to the bar tonight or I will fucking _slaughter_ you. I’ll beat your ass to the ground, Mac. I’m not kidding.” She shoved her finger in Mac’s face and stared him down for a second before turning on her heel and walking out the door.  
“Damn, she’s annoying.” Mac threw his head back and sighed. “I’m not working tonight. I don’t even do anything. Dennis was the only one who ever helped her. She’s just pissed because he left, she can’t take that shit out on me.” Charlie rolled his eyes. He'd been rolling his eyes a lot lately.  
“Man, you’ve barely said a word today, what’s up?” Mac asked.  
“I’ve said words.”  
“Not many.” Mac sipped his beer and eyed Charlie, who did not respond.  
“Why’d you fight with Frank?” Mac tried.  
This caught Charlie off guard. “What? Nothing. No reason. No big deal.” He cleared his throat.  
“Charlie, you crashed his car. You barely resisted me not bringing you home last night. Not really like you, man.”  
There was a long pause and Mac worried that Charlie had stopped breathing. Mac wanted to tell him to hurry up, spit it out, but stopped himself. When Charlie finally spoke, it was sudden and louder than Mac expected.  
“I think Frank’s my dad”.  
Mac tried to be nice, he really did, but he couldn't resist spitting back, “ _No shit_. Franks your dad? No way, dude. Woah. _Frank?_ ”  
Charlie slammed his beer on the table and stood to look down at him. “God, fuck you, man. Can you take me seriously for a fucking second? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not doin’ too good here.” He pointed to his head.  
Mac shook his head and put his hands up in surrender. “I know, I know. I’m sorry Charlie. It’s just- I’m trying to help you out, but you’re not giving me much to work with.”  
Charlie folded his arms. “I didn’t ask for your help.”  
Mac huffed, “Uh, yeah, you kind of did when you listed me as your emergency contact.”  
Charlie raised his voice. “Well, I didn’t plan to wake up in the hospital, Mac. I didn’t plan to wake up and see any of you again.”  
“Oh, so, you did try to kill yourself, then?” Mac stood and walked towards the closet. He pulled out the duster and got the envelopes from the bar out of the pocket and stepped towards Charlie, holding them out to him. “Were these your little suicide notes? This is what you were gonna leave us with?”  
“Oh, what the hell, Mac? You read those? You read everyone’s? That’s- That’s personal shit, man!” Charlie’s voice was strained and cracking.  
Mac let out a shaky laugh. “You know, if you didn’t want to see us you could’ve just left town like Dennis did. You just- you were just going to leave me behind with Frank and Dee? Fuck, I-”  
“ _Jesus_ , Mac this isn’t about you! This isn’t about you, this isn’t about Dennis. The world doesn’t revolve around you and Dennis.” Charlie began yelling. “Do you know how pathetic and shitty you sound right now? Like- like oh _poor Mac_ , he has to tolerate Charlie and Frank and Dee because Dennis left him. _Poor fucking Mac_. I just tried to kill myself but _poor little Mac_.”  
Mac stood with his mouth open and brows together, trying to think of some way to defend himself, but nothing was coming to him. He finally managed to spit out, “Fuck you, man.”  
Charlie huffed and chugged the remainder of his beer. He turned and limped towards the door, ignoring Mac as he called to him, “You’re leaving? Where are you going to go, huh? You can’t even walk.” He continued rambling after he heard the door slam. "C'mon, Charlie," The letters fell to the floor as he held his head in his hands.

Mac spent the rest of the day sitting on his couch eating, drinking, crying, and watching Predator. He didn’t know where Charlie went. He didn’t know if Charlie was okay. He didn’t go into work, and he didn’t answer the phone any of the times Dee called him. He woke up the next afternoon from a dream about Dennis and immediately felt the pain of a headache he couldn’t even blame on a hangover. He checked his phone to find 6 voicemails from Dee, one from Frank, and one from an unknown number. He checked Frank's first.

“Hey, Mac. I called twice, where the hell are ya? Dee’s been bitchin’ at me all night.” Frank was talking too quickly for Mac to follow so shortly after waking up. “Anyway, have you seen Charlie? He left like two nights ago and I haven’t seen him. He was bitchin’ at me too, and I thought he left to blow off some steam but, uh, I’m gettin’ worried now. Call me if you know where he ran off to. Oh! It’s, uh, it’s Frank by the way.”  
Mac rolled his eyes at the last line of the message but stared blankly at his phone before deleting it. He didn’t expect Frank to care that much that Charlie left. Maybe he was having trouble sleeping too.  
Mac chose to erase all of Dee’s messages without listening to them, then went to the unknown number’s message. It started with a lot of rustling sounds, then a harsh voice in the background yelling something that sounded like “ _Fuck off!_ ” or “ _Back up!_ ”. The voice came in clearer when it started speaking:

“Mac? Hello? Is this Mac? Oh-oh shit, is this a voicemail? Um...” The voice sounded familiar, but Mac couldn’t place his finger on who it could be. “Well, hey. I wanted to talk to Charlie but apparently, he doesn’t have a phone. I don’t blame him, I don’t want anybody spying on me either! This is a bum friend of mine’s shitty prepaid thing. Anyhoo, it’s Rickety Cricket calling. I found Charlie in a crashed car the other night and called an ambulance for him. I wanted to check in and see how he’s doin’. Every time I try to go to Paddy’s it’s closed. What’s up with that? I’ve got to shower sometime soon.”  
The message cut off suddenly there. Mac walked towards the bathroom as he wondered how the hell Cricket got his phone number.  
He stepped into the shower and tried to distract himself from the thousands of things running through his mind, but mostly failed. He wanted to see Charlie. He wanted to see Dennis. He kind of wanted to see Cricket, too, just out of curiosity. When he got out of the shower, he decided the best he could do at the moment was to go to the drugstore and buy new bandages for Charlie (and it’d be a good idea to have them around for himself too, just in case).

Mac dressed and walked to the nearby drugstore to buy a first-aid kit and every type of bandage he can find. From there, he went to the bar and found it closed. Luckily, this time he remembered to bring a key. He entered and began making himself a drink when he heard rustling sounds coming from the back office. He quickly found Charlie’s rat-bashing stick and tip-toed to the office door, thrusting it open while yelling, “Get your ass out of my bar!”, only to find a startled Frank struggling to reach the vent on the ceiling.  
“Frank?! What the hell-” Mac started, while Frank interrupts him.  
“Mac! Mac, have you seen Charlie? I’m losing my damn mind, Mac. Where could he have gone off to? I was thinking he could be up in the vents. Help me up there, will ya?”  
“No, I’m not helping you, Frank. Charlie’s not in the goddamn vents.” Mac sighs, setting Charlie’s stick down, but pauses. “Well, he could be. Maybe he is. Maybe check just in case.”  
Mac climbed a chair and grabbed a screwdriver to open the vents. As he’s loosening the screws in the awkward silence he tries to make conversation, “Heard you got a new car.”  
“Charlie crashed it. Found it in the alley.”  
“You knew? And you’re not mad about that?”  
“Oh, I’m pissed. I’m gonna ring the bastard’s neck when I get him home.” Frank sighed, “I need him, Mac. I can’t sleep.”  
Mac boosted Frank up into the vents and wished him luck. He handed him a flashlight and told him, “Alright, Frank. I’m out, but if you find him, give me a call.”

Despite telling Frank he was leaving, Mac stays in the bar for a while. He intended to leave before Dee came and made him work a shift with her, but he stayed drinking too late. Luckily, it was slow for a Saturday, even for Paddy's, so they closed at midnight and Mac asked Dee to drive him home.  
On their way to his apartment, Dee turned down the volume on Mac's mixtape to ask, “Why was Charlie driving Frank’s car? Does he even have a license?”  
“No idea.” Mac stared out the window, annoyed at the interruption.  
“I think I’ve been a little worried about him.”  
“You _think?_ ”  
“Shut up. I don’t know. He’s hurt himself, we should be worried! You’re his friend, aren’t you?”  
“I didn’t say I wasn’t." Mac sighed, "I am. I’ve been worrying about Charlie for thirty years.”  
“We should look after him.”  
She stopped the car outside Mac’s apartment and he left without saying another word. Dee scoffed and called to him, “Goodbye, asshole!” and drove off, offended.

Mac locked his door behind him and immediately crawled into his bed and fell asleep, clothes and all. He woke several hours later to the feeling of movement under his blankets. “What the hell?!” Mac yelped and sat upright, his hands thrown up into fists, ready to fight.  
The lump moving in the blankets settled down and a hand peeked out of the sheets to pat Mac's lap. He goes rigid at the touch before the lump speaks, “Shh, shut up. It’s me. Lay down.” He instantly recognized the voice and calmed.  
“Charlie?” Mac breathed out, “Charlie, what the fuck? Why are you in my- what the hell,” He sat back and pulled the blankets off of Charlie's face. Big eyes blinked up at him, and Mac noticed he still hasn't changed the bandages. He'll have to fix that. “You’re okay. Shit, dude, I was worried. Where’d you go?”  
Charlie closed his eyes and mumbled, “Mm, I’ve been around.” The strong scent of alcohol fills the air when he opens his mouth. “You’ve been _around_? You smell like whiskey, bro. You’ve been somewhere.”  
“Can we talk about it in the morning?” Charlie whined and curled into a ball in the sheets.  
“Absolutely not! I want answers. Have you seen Frank yet?”  
“Mhm. He said he was gonna call you.”  
“Oh, shit. I’ve been sleeping. Wait, does that mean you were in the vents?”  
“My bad room.”  
Mac sunk down in the sheets and faced Charlie. “The goddamn vents. I should’ve known that. Whatever. I’ve got to call Cricket too.”  
“Cricks?” Charlie opens his eyes.  
“He’s the one who called the ambulance for you. You’re gonna owe him a beer.”  
“What? Fuck no, why would I owe him a beer for that?”  
“Uh, you owe him your life, dude. A beer is the least you could do.”  
Charlie shut his eyes again as Mac settled into a comfortable position on his side.  
“I didn’t want my life. He ruined my plans, I don’t owe him shit.”  
Mac's heart sunk, but he shoved down any upsetting responses to that statement. “Shit, Charlie. Whatever. _I_ owe him a beer then. I love that goddamn street rat.”

They rested in a comfortable silence and Mac began falling asleep hugging Charlie, careful not to hurt any injuries.  
"Hey," Charlie whispered and pressed his palm against Mac's chest, testing to see if he was still awake. He got only a soft hum in response. “I think Dennis is gonna come back.”  
Mac opened his eyes and yawned, “Yeah?”  
“Yeah, he won't last there. Like, he’s probably more miserable than us right now. Remember the suburbs? If he can’t survive Philly with his best goddamn friend, he can’t survive North Dakota with some lady and a kid. He’ll come back for us.”  
Mac swallowed and began fiddling with Charlie’s shirt. “The gang’s got to stick together.”  
“Yeah, the bar too. It’s just us and the bar.” Charlie nodded.  
“Well, that means you’re gonna come back too, right? You’ll come back. We're all staying.”  
“Yeah. I’m here, man. I’ll stay here. The gang’s gonna live forever.”

**Author's Note:**

> me writing about a suicide: damn is this too soft?
> 
> this is the first fic ive ever written so if you have any constructive criticism or if you notice any mistakes please let me know! i want to improve as much as i can


End file.
